Route March
by Strange Brew
Summary: Polly lets her mind wander on a military route march. Fairly unpolished Polly/Mal-ishness, written quickly because my life needed more vampires in uniform as a matter of urgency. Set before the events of 'Having a Ball'.


**Route March**

_Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right_

In the immutable rhythms of the route march, Sergeant Polly Perks lets her mind wander. It wanders up the shiny black backs of Corporal Maladicta's boots, hitting the dirt in front of her. It wanders up the crude seams of Maladicta's regulation white breeches. It follows the seams upwards, and lingers for a while…

_Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Nice arse – Left right – Left right – What? – Left right – Left right – You heard me. She's got a nice arse – Left right – Left right – Left right – Shut up – Left right – Left right – She does, though. A really nice arse – LEFT right – LEFT right – LEFT right – left – hot – RIGHT _

Polly stumbles a little and now she's out of step. She catches Maladicta's heel with the toe of her own boot. 'Sorry, Corp,' she says, automatically. Maladicta looks over her shoulder at her, grins, and then turns back round. 'You're my sergeant,' Maladicta says, just loud enough for Polly to hear. 'You don't have to apologise. You can do _anything_ to me, if you want.'

_LEFT RIGHT – LEFT RIGHT – LEFT RIGHT – LEFT right – LEFT right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right_

Polly concentrates on the rhythms until her wholly inexplicable blush has subsided. Her boot soles slap the dirt. She can hear Private Yapp breathing beside her. Polly focuses her gaze on Maladicta's boots. Little spurts of dust are sent up with each step. The polished black leather is becoming dulled. Her eyes rise up, quickly, to Maladicta's back. Where has she managed to get that scarlet cavalry jacket from? Polly and her little lads are stuck in the ill-fitting old-fashioned red tailcoats, but Mal is swaggering along in a short little jacket, with real buttons. You couldn't say her shako was set at a _rakish_ angle on her short black hair, but you'd be lying if you said it was on… straight. Polly is suddenly cross. Who can _swagger _on a route march? Bloody vampires.

_Left right – Left right –Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right_

When they camp tonight, she's going to have to have a word with Corporal Maladicta _viz._ uniform regulations and attitude towards superior NCOs. She sighs as she realises that it will do no bloody good. Mal will just wink and grin, and sip her coffee. She might salute lazily. Mal is a damn good soldier, but she can't half be a giant pain in the arse as well. Last night, for instance, when Polly had pointed out that corporals in the Borogravian army don't habitually wear silk shirts, Maladicta had just smiled and said, 'Sorry, Sarge. Would you like me to take it off?' And Polly had stomped off, blushing furiously, leaving Mal lounging by the fire, re-buttoning the offending item and chuckling to herself.

_Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right - Left right_

Weren't vampires – _female _vampires– meant to wear _bodices_ or something under their clothes? Something with wiring? They certainly weren't meant to unbutton their shirts and startle their unsuspecting sergeants with the briefest flash of their bare breasts.

Bloody vampires!

_Left right – Left right – Left right – lovely breasts, though – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – really lovely – Left right – Left right – Left right – WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, PERKS? – Left right – Left right – Left right – Stop thinking about them! – LEFT right – LEFT right – LEFT right – LEFT right – that's better – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – but they're still really lovely breasts, you know – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left right – Left -_

Boots continue to hit the dirt in the immutable cadences of the route march. Feet fall in unison. Arms swing together. And Sergeant Perks' mind continues to wander.


End file.
